


put it all aside

by gingergenower



Series: saving the world [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cop Killian, F/M, Firefighter Emma, Fluff, Minor Prince "Charming" James | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: Five times Emma or Killian is on shift, and one time neither of them are.





	

Killian and the chief talk, voices soft, and Mary Margaret puts another stack of plates in her hands, and she wanders over to the pile to get washed. Killian’s hands are limp in the sink, listening, but he clears his throat when she’s in earshot and they fall quiet, turning back to the dishes. As if Emma didn’t already know.

The chief only offered to dry because Killian offered to wash up- a long, boring job that no one volunteers for. Mary Margaret rolls her eyes at Emma and when they’ve deposited everything at the counter, links arms with her.

“Have fun, boys,” she grins, waggling her fingers at them and leading Emma out of the room. Once she’s shut the door behind them, she rolls her eyes at Emma. “Yes, David’s interrogating him. He’s been talking about having ‘a quiet word’ with Killian for weeks, it’s probably best to just let them get on with it.”

Emma smacks her forehead, dropping onto the couch. “Excellent. He does know we’re not even dating properly, doesn’t he?”

Settling next to Emma, Mary Margaret pats her knee. “If it’s any consolation, we don’t have a shotgun he can threaten him with.”

“It’s not. He’ll probably threaten Killian with you.”

Humming, she considers that. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

Snorting, Emma drops her head back and tries not to think too hard. One of Mary Margaret’s colleagues is babysitting her and David’s son tonight, and she stretches out next to Emma, probably relaxing for the first time that day. She holds her hand out, wedding and engagement rings gleaming in the lamplight.

“Just so you know, you’re never certain what you have is real.”

“Hm?”

“I know you don’t trust easy, but there’s a lot of naïve hope and trust involved in being in love.”

“We don’t… we barely know each other, let alone _love_ -”

“I know that,” Mary Margaret says, dropping her hand back down. “But you might fall in love. One day. And I just think you should know what it involves.”

Emma doesn’t quite know what to say, so she says nothing. She leans her head on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, and she shifts under her so she can rest her head properly.

In Emma’s first weeks at the station, Mary Margaret announced her pregnancy. Emma asked her how she was doing every time she came into the station, and they struck up conversations about all sorts and the next thing Emma knew she was having dinner in her chief’s house with her chief’s wife. Mary Margaret’s only six years older than Emma, but she watches out for Emma as much as David does, and Emma thought of them as another kind of family. She’s even their first-choice babysitter on date nights.

Propping her feet up on the coffee table, Emma dozes on Mary Margaret’s shoulder. She opens a bleary eye every now and then, the football game on the tv giving Emma an idea of how long she’s been asleep. She’s still got the whole night before her shift is over, so she doesn’t begrudge herself this.

About twenty minutes later the kitchen door opens and Killian and David are chuckling at something as they come through, Emma cracking open one eye before shutting it again. They both sit down, and Killian’s still telling his story.

“-and then, he looks me dead in the eye, and he says ‘I didn’t steal those laptops’.”

“What an idiot,” David says, trying to contain his laughter.

“She’s asleep,” Mary Margaret says, and their laughter quietens. Emma feels their gazes on her, but she’s close enough to sleep that it’s true enough and she’s too comfortable to move. “Have you had a hard day?”

“Not especially,” David says. No one’s died on their watch, not yet today. “But she always sleeps at strange times.”

“She only sleeps when she feels safe,” Killian murmurs. There’s a pause, and someone shifts.

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Mary Margaret says, doing her best not to move. Emma feels herself sink a little lower into sleep. “But… yes. That’s really observant.”

“It’s not,” Killian says. “I’m the same.”

Emma wants to smile, but she’s dreaming.

***

She passes him the brown paper bag with a raised eyebrow. She’s only been his girlfriend five minutes and he’s already asking for favours. “You’re grovelling later.”  
“I’m grovelling now, you’re the _best_ , Jesus-”

“Okay, it’s only food, calm down.”

“Sunday night, I’m taking you out.”

“We were having date night on Sunday anyway.”

“I was ordering takeaway Sunday. Now I’m booking reservations and plying you with good wine.”

“…well, I won’t say no. But don’t forget your lunch again, it might prove expensive.”

“Noted.”

***

His hand tightens at the nape of her neck. He’s practically pulling her hair, his lips latched onto her jaw and his thigh pressed between hers to keep her in place. He’s changed out of his uniform and he tastes like his body wash, but his stubble tickles against her cheek. She bites down on her whimper, throwing her head back and she knocks against the shut door of her own locker.

If anyone walks in she faces a disciplinary and she can’t even bring herself to care, rocking her hips against him and smirking when his lips find hers again, open-mouthed and desperate. Her fingers dig in to his lower back, trying to press him even closer, and he groans.

She breaks the kiss, and he doesn’t step back or lean away, cheeks touching and their breathing ragged. “Where did this come from?”

“A desire to see you,” he says, pressing his lips into her cheek, lingering there. “And then I saw you, and, well… you smiled and I was gone.”

She shoves him off, grinning, turning to open her locker again- where she was before Killian came in. “You’re so full of shit.”

They’ve been dating three months, and she forgets that the rest of the station likes him and it’s no wonder he got to the lockers unchallenged. 

He wraps his arms around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. She pretends she doesn’t like how persistent he is. “Not at all, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She can’t move much, and his arms tense when she tries to, so she throws her water bottle in the direction of the bench, riffling through her notes. “You know, I am at work right now. And I’m heading out to do some fire safety talks at an elementary school in fifteen minutes.”

“A whole fifteen minutes?” His lips trace the arteries in her neck, up to the shell of her ear. She shivers. “What could we do with that time?”

“Not what you’re thinking of,” she says, her blood still thrumming with the feel of his hands on her.

“That’s a shame. I had such plans…”

She elbows him, light enough that it doesn’t hurt too much but hard enough that he knows she means it. He lets her go, leaning against the lockers next to her.

“I’m seeing you tomorrow, you can wait.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, because she hasn’t said it back and she can’t tell him she’s never said it to anyone, “I think you’re one of the bravest people I know and you job’s amazing, but our shifts keep clashing and I like seeing you.”

She half-smiles, because he seems to think he might’ve hurt her saying that makes something ache in the pit of her stomach, and she turns to him, resting a hand on his cheek. “I like seeing you too. I’m just more practiced at patience, is all.”

He shakes his head at that, smirking, and she’s poked somewhere she didn’t realise was ticklish on him. “Probably.”

She leans up, kissing him again. “So, see you tomorrow?”

“How about I come over and make you breakfast?”

“That,” she says, kissing him hard, “sounds _amazing_.”

***

Killian rubs his eyes and smacks his hands down on the wheel. Cassidy nudges him.

“Look, wanna talk about it?”

Killian shakes his head. “Not even a little bit.”

His partner’s already distracted, glancing back over his shoulder. “Did you see that-”

“Silver Voltswagen?”

“Yeah.”

He doubles the car back, hitting the gas as soon as they’ve straightened up, and Cassidy flicks the sirens on. “Where’d it-”

“Left, left, go left-”

The Voltswagen turned out to be transporting enough crack to get an entire club high for a month. It’s a good haul before midnight, but it’s Friday night and they’re in Chelsea and they might as well have ‘cause trouble we need more things to do’ emblazoned down the side of their cruiser. They’ve broken up fights, called for ambulances, and grabbed an underage kid out of the line for a bar because he took something right in front of them and he didn’t actually know what it was. He thinks they scared the shit out of him when they made him throw it up and called his parents, so they let him off with a warning and hope that they’ll never see him again.

The weather’s warming up, so they’re less likely to encounter hyperthermia from people sitting on the sidewalk for too long, but he still leans out of the window to tell a woman to stand up as the radio crackles.

“- _Jones? Are you there? Over_.” It’s Talbot, a cop with about ten years’ experience and brimming with more insight into the job than most of Killian’s supervisors.

“This is Killian Jones, listening, over.”

“ _I’m on 23rd and 3, I could use your assistance if you’re in the area, over_.”

Cassidy shrugs at him, and Killian takes the next left. “I’m about five minutes out. Is that alright? Over.”

“ _That’s fine, over_.”

When they get there, the drunken crowd from the bar is spilling onto the sidewalk, but they don’t seem too raucous. Most of them are singing or collapsing into fits of giggles, but Talbot is pulled up on the other side of the road, so Killian pulls up next to him. Talbot’ leaning over a woman as they both get out of the car, and Killian calls over.

“You alright, mate?”

“I’m fine,” he says, straightening up, and Killian sees the woman’s face. Emma.

He launches himself at her, eyes running up and down her and staring for injury, but what throws him is the way her eyes slide over him, swaying underneath his hands. She giggles at nothing. “Emma, are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Talbot says, gesturing to a bruise on her arm. “As far as I can tell, she walked into something before I found her. She doesn’t have her phone on her, I’m pretty sure she’s lost her bag, and she can’t tell me… well, much of anything, but I can’t tell who she was out with.”

Cassidy looking at her with a critical eye. “Reckon she needs her stomach pumped?”

“She’s already thrown up,” Talbot shrugs. “Repeatedly. That’s why the bar kicked her out.”

Killian breathed out, turning to him. “Thank you.”

“No bother. Didn’t want to tell you what it was over the radio, no idea who might be listening, but I figured you’d want to see her home.”

“Yeah, well, if she’s lost her keys… and she needs watching anyway, I can’t just leave her at mine.”

Cassidy snaps his fingers. “One of the guys from the station? Surely someone’ll take her in.”

“Mary Margaret,” Killian nods, putting an arm around her waist while Cassidy leads them to the car. He pulls out his phone after they lower her onto the seat, still utterly dazed with no idea what’s happening or even who she’s with. Killian only has David’s cell number, but it’ll have to do. “Hello?”

Talbot waves goodbye, heading back to his own car.

“ _Killian? Have you_ -”

“Listen, mate, no time,” he says, shaking off whatever David’s got to say. “Thanks for picking up. I know it’s ridiculous to call you now, but one of the guys has just found Emma on 3rd Avenue, she’s blind drunk and-”

“ _You found her_?” It sounds like he drops something. “ _Wait, on 3rd_ -?”

“You- what?”

“ _She went out with Mary Margaret, but she called about forty minutes ago, Emma wandered off and she had no idea where she’d gone_ -”

“Are you.” Killian pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it. “Are you kidding me- you knew _forty minutes ago_ and you didn’t call me?”

“ _Emma was pretty upset with you, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea_ -”

“If someone goes missing, call the fucking cops, do you know what could’ve-”

“ _Mary Margaret’s got her bag, she couldn’t have gone far_ -”

“Yeah, unless someone else picked her up, Jesus-”

“ _She wasn’t that drunk when Mary Margaret last saw her_!”

“Well she can’t talk at all now,” Killian snaps, “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know I’m here, so I’m bringing her to yours and you can watch her while I’m on shift, I’ll pick her up in the morning.”

David seems to hold his breath. “ _What? Can she- can she even walk, is she alright_ -?”

“She’ll be fine,” Killian says, and he’s suddenly exhausted. “I just need someone to keep an eye on her overnight, in case.”

“- _okay. Thank you, I’ll- I’ll let Mary Margaret know you’ve found her_.”

“Do you know where she is? I’ll pick her up on my way.”

Mary Margaret’s three blocks over, with no idea how Emma got so bad so quickly, not even tipsy herself. Cassidy, thankfully, keeps his mouth shut and eyes on the road when Emma starts talking.

“Where’m I?”

“You’re in Killian’s car,” Mary Margaret says, tucking her hair behind her ears. “We’re going to my house, okay?”

She stares at Mary Margaret, blinking and trying to take in what she’s said. Killian glances in the mirror, and Emma’s mascara is smudged in tear tracks down her face.

“Y’know,” she says, petting her bag, which is turned out Mary Margaret had. “I love him.”

Mary Margaret bites her lip, and Killian stiffens.

“Emma, maybe you shouldn’t-”

“It was my fault. He… um, he loves me. And I… it’s scary, y’know? Like you said. But it’s okay, because I fucked it up. So he’ll hate me now.”

“Emma, I don’t think he hates you.”

“He should,” Emma says, perplexed. “I never even… I never even said it back.”

“He knows, Emma.”

“Yeah, but… he doesn’t want me. Not really.”

“He does.”

“He wants someone who’ll say ‘I love you too’,” Emma says, and Killian realises she’s crying again. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Emma…”

She cries into Mary Margaret, and Killian doesn’t say anything, finally pulling up outside Mary Margaret and David’s little suburban house. He kicks his door open and yanks Emma’s practically off, pulling her to her feet.

“I love you,” he says, hands either side of her shoulders to keep her steady, “whether or not you say it back. And you’re probably not going to remember this in the morning, so I’m going to pretend you didn’t say it and you can say it sober at some point, but I’m going to tell you now anyway- _I’m scared too_. Okay? I’m scared too. But I’m less scared when I’m with you.”

Emma puts a clumsy hand on his face. “Are you real?”

He smiles, sighing. “Yes, I’m real.”

“You’re pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

He turns her around, gathers up her hair and she leans over to vomit in the middle of the sidewalk. Running a hand up and down her back, he looks up at Mary Margaret. “You can clean this up.”

David comes out onto the porch. “How is she?”

“Throwing up.”

Mary Margaret and David take her inside once she can only retch, and Killian promises he’ll pick her up at eight, even if she’s still asleep. He struggles to leave, but Mary Margaret bats him away, telling him she’ll stay up all night with her if she has to. 

He throws himself into the car next to Cassidy, and they stare ahead. 

Cassidy talks first, something wistful in his tone. “I used to have a crush on her.”

Killian whacks him.

“I don’t anymore! She’s all yours, calm down-”

***

It’s bad enough. It’s on the news.

The fire’s twenty floors up. When it started, it was an electrical fire in an overloaded plug socket, but when they reach it, climbing twenty floors, and it’s half the floor, and it’s probably in the walls, and all Emma can think is that they can’t stop this, only contain it.

Emma’s sent down a floor, to stop the internal wall damage, and three of them are sent up, and she’s not entirely sure what happens next, but then she’s upstairs, and then she’s outside watching an ambulance leave, and then she’s out of the truck at the firehouse and arms grab her, lips kissing whatever part of her they can reach-

“-are you okay, I saw the news and I knew it was- are you okay?”

“Not a scratch,” she says, pulling back, eyes drooping. He cups her face in his hands. “It was someone else.”

Someone else. Someone else, when Killian found her waiting outside his apartment, his uniform soaked in blood. Someone else, when Emma pulled a body out of the rubble of an explosion. He hopes it’s always someone else, not her. Never her.

“Are they-”

“The floor caved underneath him. It’s Humbert. His legs are broken, but… he’s alive.”

“Can I do anything?”

“Um, stay? Help out? When are you on shift?”

“I’m off today.”

She frowns. “No, you’re not.”

“I called in sick. I didn’t know how long you were going to be, I didn’t know if you were in _hospital_ -”

Falling into him, he holds her upright and she presses her lips together, clinging on. She doesn’t want to say anything and doesn’t need to.

“What do you need?”

“A lift to the hospital. A few of us will end up going, probably.”

“I’ll take as many of you as I can fit. Do you want something to eat?”

“In a minute.”

“Okay.”

***

She pulls out the key- it’s shiny in its newness, its disuse, but she’s too tired to appreciate it at this second- and lets herself into his apartment. Letting her bag onto the floor, she flops down on the couch throws a hand over her eyes. She slept a few hours- about 3 til 6, another call finishing up right before the end of her shift- so she’s still buzzing from the adrenaline, and she’s had more sleep than normal so she’s not even sure she’ll be able to sleep yet.

Floorboards creak, and she doesn’t raise her head to see him. “Hey.”

“Hey. You alright?”

“Need a shower. Can’t move.”

He picks up her bag and takes her keys out of her hands, which she didn’t even realise she was still holding, and disappears into the bedroom. When he comes back out, he scoops her up and lets her slide down to wobbly standing.

“Thanks.”

“C’mon, you do need a shower.”

“Urgh.”

He helps her strip off, and when he’s sure she’s not going to fall over, he throws all her clothes in the wash and helps her shampoo her hair. She leans against his shoulder, and he chooses not to care she’s soaking his shirt.

“Thank you.”

She smiles at the kiss he presses to her forehead. 

“Of course.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” he says, pushing her back slightly to get her head under the shower properly. “Just…”

The water seems to wake her up a little, and she climbs into his t-shirt and boxers herself, but she crashes the second her head hits the pillow.

He kisses her forehead, makes himself coffee and settles on top of the covers next to her, picking up the book he’s halfway through. She rolls over, snuggling into his side. He watches her, for a while, then returns to his book.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so Snow is Emma's mom no matter what universe sorry I don't make the rules  
> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
